Nosey, noisy and soon to be tonguetied
by tree979
Summary: An annoying Ames and iritated Guerrero fic that doesn't end in smut. Rated 'T' for gruesome topic of conversation and one bit of bad language. Think this might be fic 100 for Human Target! Woo hoo!


**Disclaimer: Don't own Human Target but do own sense of humour. Kind of a necessity when using this site...**

**Author's note: I had to disable the anonymous reviews facility on my account due suspiciously repetitive anonymous reviews regarding my grammar! I assure you that all the necessary commas are in place when I post but some of them are comma chameleons (they come and go, they come and go-oh). Please feel free to assault my grammar in signed reviews if you feel the need.**

**It's no secret that I'm not a fan of shipping Guerrero and Ames so I decided to write them a smut-free story, just as a change of pace. I've nothing against other people shipping them, it's just not my thing.**

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"Ilsa totally has a thing for Chance but I'm not sure he feels the same. With all that stuff with Maria, I could see Chance was still carrying a torch for her but that's so over now he knows she's married. I think Winston and Ilsa would make a cute couple but maybe he's still into his ex-wife and like I said, Ilsa totally has a thing for Chance, although she did go out on a date with that Captain Harmen but I think that was just a one-off…"

Guerrero sighed as Ames continued to speculate about who Ilsa was likely to form a sexual relationship with. They'd been waiting for over half an hour for Ramon, his contact at Umbrella Corps, at a trendy downtown singles bar. The choice of venue for the meeting had been Ramon's and although Guerrero could appreciate the benefits of meeting in a busy, crowded place for his nervous informant, it was not the kind of place he liked to do business in. There were too many people and not enough exits for a start and the fact that it was a hotspot for cruising singles meant that there was a higher than average chance of total strangers wandering over and trying to start up a conversation.

Guerrero had done what he cold to address the venue's short comings. He'd turned up early enough to secure a table that was backed against the wall close to the bar's main entrance. From there he got a clear view of everyone who came in off the street. His preliminary reconnaissance had revealed that the two fire exits at the back of the bar were inaccessible from the outside and were alarmed to prevent enterprising customers from opening them and letting their friends in, thereby circumventing the ID check and cover charge at the main door. Luckily the bar didn't serve food, so there was no kitchen entrance to take into consideration.

To deal with the risk of being approached by the clientele, Guerrero had made the rash decision to take Ames along with him so as to appear unavailable. He'd questioned the wisdom of the decision from the moment she got into his car but it was too short notice to come up with an alternative solution. He needed someone on his arm to discourage potential suitors and, this being San Francisco, it wasn't just the women he needed to keep at bay.

Unfortunately Ames seemed to forget that the purpose of the evening was work related and not an excuse to sit around and gossip. She'd been running her mouth non-stop since he picked her up from the office about pretty much anything that popped into her head. When she realised that their destination for the evening was a singles bar, her topic of conversation had switched to the sex lives of their colleagues and Guerrero was rapidly losing patience with her. The fact that she was so naturally loquacious was supposed to be a good thing in this situation. If they appeared deep in conversation it was less likely that anyone would interrupt and try and join them. Unfortunately, Ames' verbal diarrhea was running just as out of control as the gastric kind.

"Ames," Guerrero interrupted. "Do me a favour."

"What?" Ames asked, surprised that he was at last joining the conversation. "You want me to do another bar run? You want another beer?"

Guerrero fought the urge to slap her. Even when trying to ascertain what he was asking of her she felt the need to ask three questions when one would do.

"Sure, get me a beer."

"A 'please' would be nice."

Guerrero glared at her and she slipped away to the bar leaving him temporarily alone at the table. The venue was filling up and whilst Ames was at the bar he had to fend off a handful of people who saw the empty chairs at his table as an open invitation to sit down. Most of them were scared off by a glare or a growled "Seats are taken" but a blonde woman, obviously already three sheets to the wind, ignored his objections completely and sat down.

"Hey there handsome," the woman said in what in her mind was probably a sexy drawl. "Whatcha doin' all on your own?"

Guerrero looked at the woman, taking in the smudged makeup, garish sequined dress and bleached hair complete with a full inch of re-growth at the root. She was drunk and she was desperate, which explained why she had ignored Guerrero's rudeness.

Guerrero glanced at the bar, looking for a suitable target and when he found one he leaned towards the woman and spoke to her in a conspiratorial stage whisper.

"There's a cute guy at the bar like totally checking you out."

As expected, the drunken blonde craned her neck to see who Guerrero was talking about.

"No, don't look now! You don't want too look obvious!" He hissed. "He's wearing an olive green shirt and black slacks. Why don't you just sidle up to him and buy him a drink? He's so into you!"

Despite Guerrero's warning the woman openly stared at the man at the bar he'd pointed out and seemed pleased with what she saw. She hastily retrieved her lipstick and a small mirror from her lurid pink handbag and re-touched her makeup.

"Thanks hun," she said standing up and straightening her dress. "he's a peach!"

Guerrero didn't feel so much as a twinge of pity for the man in the olive shirt who he'd randomly chosen to be the new object of the blonde woman's affections. She'd left his table and that was all he cared about. He wasn't able to enjoy the solitude for long because Ames returned with the drinks. Guerrero had to admit that Ames was at least good at one thing. The girl could get service at a bar a lot faster than most people.

"Have you been making friends?" Ames teased as she sat down and handed Guerrero his drink. "I hope I'm not cramping your style."

Guerrero glared at her but he did it so often now that the look was beginning to lose its potency. When Ames grinned back at him, simultaneously poking out her tongue and biting it, Guerrero momentary gave serious thought as to whether or not it would be possible to rip out her tongue and beat her to death with it. He decided a severed tongue was likely to be far more efficiently used if it were stuffed into her trachea. It would also be much more fitting were she to choke on her own over used tongue.

Ames took a sip of her own beer and launched back into another monologue. As far as Guerrero could tell this time the theme seemed to be the relative merits of every bar in the San Francisco area. He knew from experience that simply telling her to shut up had a limited effect. There was a good chance it would work for all of five minutes before she started up again, usually bitching about how under appreciated she was. He needed more than five minutes peace so he decided to take the easiest option and talk to her. It would take considerably less effort than trying to ignore the steady drone of her voice.

"Ames."

At the sound of her name she stopped mid sentence. Guerrero would never get to hear the rest of the story about what Steve the barman got caught doing to the lemons and for that he was thankful.

"Have you ever heard of something called a Scold's Bridle?" He asked.

Ames wrinkled her brow in thought. It was a random question but at least Guerrero was talking to her. She was getting a bit bored with holding up both ends of the conversation.

"No," she said after giving it some thought. "I haven't. What is it?"

Guerrero smiled for the first time that evening and Ames shifted awkwardly in her seat. Something about that smile made her a bit nervous.

"It was an implement used from the middle ages right up to the nineteenth century to deal with people who talked to much," Guerrero explained. He could see he had Ames' attention but there was no indication in her expression that she had made the connection between her own tendency to talk too much and the purpose of the Scold's Bridle itself.

"So it was like a gag?" She asked.

"Kind of." Guerrero smiled as he took another swig of his beer. He was going to enjoy spelling it out to her for once. "It was an iron cage that was fitted on the victim's head and locked into place. It was a bit like a muzzle, except there was a metal plate that went into the victim's mouth and pressed down on their tongue."

He paused to watch her reaction. She swallowed and licked her lips. It was an unconscious indicator of stress and he could tell she found the new topic of conversation unnerving.

"Sometimes," he continued, "the tongue plate was just a flat piece of metal that was intended to prevent the wearer from speaking. But in other cases the tongue plate was spiked and barbed forcing the wearer to keep their tongue perfectly still. If they didn't their tongue would be torn to shreds and they could choke on their own blood."

"That's horrible." Ames shuddered.

Guerrero watched and waited. Hopefully the thought of the implement he'd just described to her would dampen her desire to keep talking and he'd be able to wait in relative peace for his contact to show. Although Ames didn't seem to pick up on the threat that was implied in Guerrero's chosen topic of conversation, she was genuinely horrified by the concept of the device, and that bought him several precious minutes of silence. It wasn't to last though.

"It can't have been very hygienic though," Ames said eventually. "I mean, I bet they just had one bridle thingy for each town or village or whatever and I bet they never cleaned it properly after each time they used it. They didn't even know about stuff like germs then, or toothbrushes. Can you imagine having to wear it after someone with really rancid breath? Yuck!"

Guerrero let out a small laugh and shook his head. He'd just described a fairly brutal method of torture and that was what Ames focussed on? He was irritated that she didn't pick up on the message he was trying to give her that talking too much could be bad for your health but he was also amused by her concern over oral hygiene.

"I think you're missing the point here, Ames." Guerrero said.

"What?" she replied. "That people in the Dark Ages or whatever were nuts? I picked up on that just fine thanks."

"You can still get hold of a Scold's Bridle today, if you know where to look." He said in a sinister voice that finally seemed to draw the implied threat to Ames' attention. "They have to be custom made of course but they're quite popular with certain people in the BDSM community."

It finally seemed to dawn on Ames that she was not simply being given a history lesson.

"But bondage and S&M, it's all about consent right?" She asked. "I mean people have to give their consent before anyone could use something like that on them?"

Guerrero leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"In theory, yes. But there's no reason it couldn't be used for its original purpose."

The colour drained from Ames' face as she considered the idea that Guerrero not only seemed to know how to get his hands on a Scold's Bridle but he also seemed to be considering its practical uses. Suddenly she didn't feel quite so talkative any more.

Guerrero saw Ramon had arrived and was paying the cover charge whilst enduring a cursory pat down by a bored doorman. He decided he had time for one more comment to give Ames food for thought whilst he talked to his informant. He leaned across the table and fixed Ames with a cold stare.

"Of course a more permanent way to ensure someone shuts the fuck up is just to sever their vocal chords."

Ames flinched as Guerrero leaned across the table and mimed a cutting action against her throat. He smiled at her and she was about to protest that he wouldn't dare when Ramon arrived at the table.

"Have a seat." Guerrero said, indicating an empty seat.

Ramon's eyes flicked towards Ames in a silent question.

"Don't worry about her dude." Guerrero smiled. "She knows enough to keep her mouth shut."


End file.
